Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Watson—” (Tam had written facetiously).
“Miss Emily Frere”—(in a small impudent writing).
“Master Stone W. Ponting.”
The clerk said that they had left some weeks ago—here was the date—all except the young gentleman, Master Ponting, he was over there—the one drinking a lemon squash.
Stone W. Ponting was about thirteen years old; his thick, upstanding hair seemed gray with dust; dirt and freckles obscured his complexion; his hands were dark with dirt.
“You’re Stone Ponting, aren’t you?” said Edward nervously. “Mrs. Melsie Ponting’s boy?”
“Yump,” said Stone, speaking into a glass of lemon squash.
Edward was afraid of him. He never really believed that boys of thirteen had no longer the power to twist his arms.
“Have you heard your mother speak of me—Edward R. Williams?”